


Gasoline Was On My Clothes

by candiedvoltage



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Burlesque, Burn baby burn, Dancing, Dry Humping, F/M, Making Out, Slow Burn, Stripping, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, what happens in the champagne room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candiedvoltage/pseuds/candiedvoltage
Summary: When asked to do that which makes you uncomfortable, it’s usually the universe telling you to take a chance, to learn something about yourself, to stretch your soul.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short little thing, this plot bunny of mine. Then it ran away and I have no choice but to follow it. Le sigh.

When asked to do that which makes you uncomfortable, it’s usually the universe telling you to take a chance, to learn something about yourself, to stretch your soul. Dancing Burlesque was her stretch. She’d never thought highly of her body, solid though it was. Parts of it seemed to be too much. Too many curves, too many dimples, not enough definition.

She knew she was strong. She’d fought, battled, and won against illnesses and others.  
But Burlesque… Burlesque celebrates every body type, and it was about to stretch her further from her comfort zone than she’d ever stretched before.

It was their summer show on a hot night in the American South. The troupe’s home base was in a bar that had been around for the better part of a century, and the building above it showed it’s wear and tear. It wasn’t condemnable, but one wouldn’t consider it clean. The amount of character built up within those walls could fill a novel on their own.

All of the Burlesque performances took place on the second floor. There was a large room the size of a small ballroom with a bar and then the other rooms. One of the side rooms exited to the stage, and that was the only backstage area everyone had.

For this particular show, the troupe decided to offer champagne rooms in the hours following their performance and then donate that money to local charities of the girl’s choice. People could buy half hour and hour long sessions, and any money they tipped would go directly to the girl’s themselves. There were strict rules to follow and releases to be signed.

It was to be a night of tassel-turning and money-raising.

————————————————————————————————————————

Olivia loved hearing the audience cheering on the other girls as they performed. The electricity that flowed through the building was additive. She was the next to last performer, and she had no idea what things were looking like outside of the dressing room.

With all of the twists and turns and small hallways, there was no way for them to leave without being seen by the audience members milling around, so the manager had a strict “keep your ass inside this room” policy during their shows. Olivia was performing her “Winter Soldier” routine from a prior year’s “Nerdlesque” show. It was a fan favorite, and she was feeling frisky.

As she took the stage, the chords of “Toxic” by Rumer Willis filled the air. Her Walmart variety plastic Captain America Shield was behind her back, and she was strapped into her black leather bolero jacket, rhinestone HYDRA bra, black leather full-back bustier, short black felt skirt, red panties, and leather boots that ended mid thigh. One silver glove adorned her left hand, and one black glove adorned her right.

When she turned to face the stage, she hung her head as she walked the shield to a chair beside her. Lovingly she rubbed her hand down the front of it and heard a man in the front whisper loudly, “Oh shit!”

Raising her face to meet the audience, she started her dance, and let them see how she’d styled her makeup to look like the news footage of The Winter Soldier. Her skin was pale white over her entire body, but her eyes were smudged out in charcoal liner and shadow. She’d accentuated her cheekbones and jaw line giving her a harder look. Each lip painted a crimson red, and her shock of silver-blonde hair was wavy and in somewhat disarray.

Popping the top button of her jacket, she ran her hands over her torso. Undulating to the beat, Olivia turned and gave the audience a view of her panties with a brief flick of her skirt. It drew hoots and hollers as she turned to stalk across the stage. Making eye contact with the outline of someone in the front room, Olivia bent over from the waist and parted her jacket so he and everyone else could see the top of her torso. While she couldn’t make out a face or race or any other distinguishable features, she knew he was a tall man. His long legs stretched into the area between the stage and the front row and caught the movement of his hand on his thigh smoothing his pants leg down. It gave her a slight feeling of satisfaction as she raised herself back into the next position.

Pulling one sleeve off, she removed the jacket and slung it beside the shield in the chair.

“With the taste of your lips, I’m on a ride  
You’re toxic; I’m slippin’ under  
Taste of a poison paradise  
I’m addicted to you  
Don’t you know that you’re toxic?”

Her right fingertips met her mouth as she did a glove pull and stretched it across her chest. More applause echoed through the room, and she cocked one eyebrow up and dropped her glove across the shield as well.

Strutting to the center of the stage with her back facing the audience, she leaned over again at the waist, keeping both legs straight. She grabbed her ankles and ever so slowly let her hands trace up the back of her thighs until she was standing straight up. The crowd started in with whistles and clapping as she was pulling apart the fasteners on the side of the skirt. She turned and let it drop entirely into one hand and then pulled it behind her to rub it against her nearly naked form.

The audience was settling back down as she tossed her skirt into space between the stage and seats. With one hand rubbing the top of her chest, she unzipped her bustier but didn’t reveal what was underneath just yet. Turning again, she peeled the garment from her torso and slowly let it fall off of her arms. It was enough to get the audience churning in their seats again, and Olivia felt the tension building.

As it was, she was now in front of over 150 people in her bra, panties, and boots. Cocking her head over her shoulder, she winked at the form in the front row again. Crossing her ankles, she turned on the spot, revealing the bra she’d made just for this number.

The black satin adorned with black ice rhinestones in the shapes of tentacles stretched across both breasts. On the bottom half of the left breast, was HYDRA’s logo, which was no hydra at all but the head of an octopus. She always thought they were a dumbass terror organization that couldn’t get their marketing right, but she knew they’d been deadly and close to causing yet another World War. You'd never catch her muttering their stupid pledge.

Olivia ran her left hand over the logo and arched her back into it as she reached for the shield. She continued her dance with the shield as if it were a fan dance. Revealing a little or not enough, she’d give the audience peaks of the bra before she stood completely still behind it on stage, fixing her gaze on them.

Unfastening the garment, she lifted it out from behind the shield and dangled it in front of that same person in the front row. He made no effort to grab it, so she tossed it behind herself as the song started to wind down.

“Intoxicate me now  
With your loving now  
I think I’m ready now  
I think I’m ready now

I…. think…. I’m….ready.... now”

And as the guitar hit the last chord of the song, she lowered the shield, arched her back again, and took her goddess pose, one arm above her head, the shield down by her left thigh, revealing the star pasties that looked just like the center of Captain America’s suit and shield.

The room exploded in applause, whistles, hoots, and yells. Pausing for a moment to absorb it, Olivia then turned and exited to the back of the stage, leaving the kittens to gather all of her clothes from the stage.

“Goddammit if you don’t rock the shit outta that number, every time!” The troupe manager told her, pulling her into a big hug. Adrenaline coursed through her veins to the point that Olivia felt she might burst into flame.

“Oh, it felt good,” She replied, putting on her satin robe. Grabbing her makeup remover and wash cloth, she ducked into the tiny bathroom and removed the extreme makeup off of her face and scrambled back into the dressing room to apply a more classic pinup style. One of the other girls helped pin some curls up and get her hair in order.

Fifteen minutes later, she was in her favorite pinup outfit and almost ready for whoever bought her time. She went on stage for the final curtain call of all the performers and then waited in the dressing room with everyone else.

“Does everyone remember the rules?” Their manager asked. “No sex, of any type in the rooms, and they may only touch you if you allow them. Hit the panic button in each room if something gets outta hand and remember to have as much fun as you can stand. Okay, ladies?”

And with that, the girls let out a small “woot” throughout the dressing area. The assistant manager came through the door and gave everyone their numbers. Olivia was in 5. Each girl was escorted to their rooms on the arms of the male kittens in the troupe and deposited with a file folder of paperwork.

Room number 5 had an old fireplace that was long dormant. It wasn’t a large room, but there was plenty of room to dance for someone on the large rug that covered most of the floor. One wall stood covered by a large couch that was donated by a local furniture store as a scratch and dent model along with two large high backed chairs and a small table in between. She also had a stool and a chair she could use for her numbers if she wanted to. An antique baker’s rack served as a small bar in the back of the room. The lighting was soft, credited to several antique lamps all around the space.

Olivia took out a bottle of chilled champagne along with two coupe glasses and sat the glasses on the small table. She turned on the small speaker and cued up her dancing playlist on her phone. Whoever joined her would be introduced, they’d go over rules, sign paperwork, and start the festivities. The longer patrons paid for, the slower she went, and the more she gave them.

A knocking on the door only slightly startled her. With a deep breath, she answered, “Come in.”

When the door opened, she could hear the sound of people all along the hallway as well the music coming upstairs from the other bar. The man who was opening said door still had half of his body behind it speaking forcefully to someone in the hallway.

“No, Tony, I don’t need your help. You’ve helped enough.”

When the gentleman pulled himself into full view of Olivia, she stopped breathing.

The guy’s face showed no emotion as he closed the door behind himself, but he made eye contact and wouldn’t look away as he walked into the room.

Olivia tried to wrap her brain around what was going on.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”


	2. Chapter 2

The words were all she could manage to get out. They drew the man up. She was standing by the fireplace mantel and almost had to reach a hand out to steady herself. “Is this a joke? It has to be a joke, right?” She asked again. 

The guy ducked his head slightly and furrowed his brow. “I told Tony this was a bad idea. I’m sorry, Miss ?”

“d’Argent. Atomic d’Argent is my name.” Olivia supplied. “But you knew that when you paid for me.”

“But that’s not your real name, is it?” The man asked. 

Olivia looked at the man and then acquiesced. “No more than Captain America is your real name.” 

With that the tension in the man’s brow released and the line that had formed was gone. 

“So, you do recognize me.” He stated directly.

Nodding, Olivia supplied, “Even with the beard; I'd recognize you, Captain Rogers. Why are you here? Did I do something wrong? Wait, are you gonna lecture me about dancing in a HYDRA bra?”

Steve laughed lightly. “What? No!” He took a step toward Olivia, palms held out as a means of surrender. 

“Yeah, no, I don’t think I can do this. It’s just a bit too weird.” She stated, waving her hands in the air in front of her. “You should get your money back, Captain.” And with that Olivia moved towards the table, grabbing the champagne to put it back on the ice. 

“It was Tony’s idea, Miss d’Argent. There is no ulterior motive beyond a rich man wanting to get into as much trouble as he can with his team after a shitty mission.” Steve told her, not moving a muscle, looking like a stone statue in the middle of the room. Olivia looked at him again.

“So, you’re telling me that it was a coincidence that y'all just happened to attend a burlesque show where a performer has a routine about the very man who tried to kill you at one time? Seems a little far-fetched, don’t you think?” She really couldn’t believe this was where the night was going. They were standing about three feet apart, and Olivia wasn’t taking her eyes off of his. 

Shifting slightly between his feet, Steve sighed, “Well, probable impossibilities are to be preferred.”

She coughed out a laugh, “To improbable possibilities? Care to elaborate, Commander?”

Steve didn’t blink but tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. “You know Aristotle?”

“Enough to know he was talking about writing fiction and not to real-world events.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

The room was warm and now silent, save the slight thumping and various voices and laughs coming through the walls. 

She asked him again. “Why are you here, Captain?”

“I’m here to see you. Tony paid for this as a joke, to see how I would react, but I picked your room. I wanted to see you dance again.” His eyes looked almost sad yet truthful.

It took Olivia by surprise. She wasn’t expecting that. She wasn’t expecting anything close to this happening tonight. Staring at the bare floor for a moment, she closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. Slowly raising her head and opening her eyes to him, she smiled. 

“Then I need you to fill out paperwork for me.” He nodded in agreement.

They each took a seat, and Olivia handed the papers over with a pen. Steve read them and signed his name. He then reached into his back pocket and pulled out a phone. 

“Tony insists that you read and sign this as well, please.”

“What is it?” She asked taking the offered phone from his hand. “An NDA? I have to sign and NDA?”

“No, you don’t have to sign anything. We can just sit here and talk for the next few hours.” He replied.

Looking into his eyes, she realized what he'd said. 

“Hours? How long did Tony pay for?”

“All night.” 

“Oh!” There were worst ways to spend an entire evening, of that she was sure as she read the document on his phone. It was nothing outrageous. Olivia couldn't imagine having to live the type of life where this was commonplace, but she also couldn’t imagine having billions of dollars. 

She signed the phone and handed it back to Steve. His lips curled up on one side in a slight small. “Your signature looks as illegible as mine," as he sat it on the table between them. 

Then, he added, "You know, we could just sit here and talk for a few hours anyway if you’re not comfortable with anything else.” 

“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t be comfortable with me taking my clothes off in front of you, again. What with you being Mr. Virtuous and such.” She offered a smile of her own. “What would Steve Rogers possibly want to know about a burlesque dancer?” She asked a bit more curious. 

“If I promise not to divulge, could I know your first name?”

Without missing a beat, her reply came, “It’s Olivia. My first name is Olivia.” He held out his hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia. I’m Steve.”

“I know.” And they both laughed a little. “Champagne?” She offered to get up to prepare them a glass each. 

“Sure. Why the hell not.” He replied getting up to meet her at the bar. She took the bottle in hand, released the cage, and popped the cork, smiling at Steve. After they each had a glass in hand, she said, “Care to propose a toast?” 

“Um, yeah. Uh... How about, a soldier’s home is on the land, a sailor’s home at sea, but a whiskey glass and a stripper’s ass is home sweet home to me.” Olivia almost laughed into her champagne. 

“Uh, what? Where the hell… you know what? I don’t wanna know. Cheers!” And she took a swig of her drink as did Steve. 

“Yeah, I picked that up from Dum Dum in the War. Fancied himself the funny one. It always made me laugh.” Placing his glass on the table, he refilled it, and topped hers off as well. “So, what now?” 

She walked over to her phone and turned on her playlist, but low enough that they could still talk. And talk they did, for about 30 minutes. They talked about books and movies, some current events, and random knowledge. Steve settled into his chair and had his legs sticking out in front of him at one point. Then, he made a movement she recognized.

“Were you in the front row?” She asked him suddenly.

He nodded. “I was. You looked right at me. Sent chills down my spine.” She blushed slightly. Somehow, she, a dancer, managed to frighten one of the best soldiers on the planet. 

“Good. That’s what’s meant to happen. You’re not supposed to know if you’d rather fight me or fuck me.” She felt bold at that moment. Steve pulled his legs back a bit but ran his hand down his thigh again. 

“Please don’t ask me to fight you,” was all he said, but his look had turned a bit more intense than the few minutes prior when they were discussing the brilliance of Michelangelo. 

“Would you like for me to dance for you?” She asked him. He nodded at her. “I think I would like that.” She rose from her seat and picked out the song she wanted. 

Maroon 5’s cover of “Sex and Candy” started playing and Olivia turned to pull the stool to where she was. Slowly, she undulated her body, channeling her alter ego as best as she could. Perched on the stool, she leaned down and lifted the hem of her skirt to show her garters and stockings. She could hear Steve take a deep breath and she decided to leave those on for later, opting to run her hand down her leg instead. 

Feeling emboldened, she stood up and walked towards his chair, letting her heels help with the sway in her hips. Leaning over from her hips directly in front of him, she placed her face next to his ear and whispered, “What do you want from me, Steve?” in a purr. She could feel his breath on her collar bone as he exhaled and she took a moment to absorb the smell of his soap and cologne. “I want… I want to forget. For one night.” He answered softly. 

“I think I can help you with that.” She replied as she stood back up a bit, her hands still on the arms of his chair. He laid one of his hands over hers. 

“I want to touch you.” He whispered.

The rules allowed touching, as much as the dancer was comfortable. 

“You’ll get your chance Captain. I promise.”


	3. Chapter 3

She kissed his cheek as the song changed. “Titanium” by Madilyn Bailey started as she walked back in front of the fireplace, several steps away from his chair. As the solemn song started, she reached behind her to unzip the back of her top. Slowly she let it fall her arms to reveal the ice blue corset she was wearing. 

Olivia turned so Steve could see her from the side and she ran her hand down her thigh onward to her toes. Slowly as she made her way back up, she pulled the bottom zipper of her pencil skirt all the way to the waistband to meet the other pull. Turning so that she faced him head on, she reached behind her and unbuttoned the skirt, letting it pool at her feet. 

Steve took in her entire figure in one long look. He ran his eyes from hers, down to her toes, without changing his expression, absorbing the sight of her in only her corset, garter belt, panties, and stockings. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they found hers with a softened expression. Olivia knew she was breathing heavy, but she was not the only one. 

She stepped out of the fabric around her feet and walked over to the sofa, perching on the arm for only a moment. Purposefully she kept her eyes lowered, acting demure as one could when they were mostly nude in front of a man who looked like one of the master artists of the Renaissance carved him out of marble. 

Leaning her arm over the back and cocking her head to the side she could feel Steve watching her every move. Slowly she lowered herself down and then crawled across the couch on her hands and knees, stretching until she was laying on her stomach across the cushions, propping herself up on her elbows. 

Swinging her heel clad feet a few times, she moved again, this time rotating herself until she was laying on her back, arms over her head, legs kicked into the air. Moving with the music, she would arch her back up and then relax back down, running her hands through her hair and over her body. 

Steve could see her lips mouthing some of the lyrics when she’d close her eyes. Again he nervously rubbed his hand down his thigh as the other maintained a tight grip on the arm of his chair. 

The song ended, something else began, another he’d yet to hear. “Creep” by PMJ started playing, and Olivia slowly pushed herself up from the couch. 

She kicked her heels off and walked directly in front of Steve. Silently she held out her hand. Only a moment passed as he accepted and stood up, towering over her. Taking his other hand, she placed it in the middle of her back and raised the other up to create their frame. Lightly she positioned her left hand on the seam of his dress shirt shoulder and pulled him into a swaying motion with her.

Olivia could feel the warm of his skin on her small hand. “Do you know how to dance?” She asked him, and an almost pained expression fell across his face. “No. Not really. I'm tryin to not step on your toes.” 

Olivia studied his face; he was looking over her shoulder, his expression turned hard to read. He’d gone from wanting to closed-off in a moment. 

“What did I say?” She whispered, rubbing her thumb across the seam of his shirt, and his eyes darted down to find hers again. 

Blinking, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. It was an old memory. Not your fault. But I still don’t want to step on your toes.” Olivia chuckled at him, and the hand on her back pulled her closer to him, her torso pushing up against his. She could feel the long, deep inhalation he took of her hair. 

“God, you feel good.” He said as he released his breath against her ear and she could feel the goose bumps rising across her neck and down her shoulder. Steve moved their joined hands to where he was able to stroke his thumb across the sensitive skin. 

“Did I do that?” He asked. This time, the sensation shot straight down her back, warming her entire torso. 

In a voice no louder than a whisper, she replied, “My ears are sensitive, Captain.” 

“That’s good to know.” And just then the song was over. Olivia took a step back. If she didn’t, she wasn’t sure she would have any control left. 

The man in front of her was possibly the most attractive man she’d met. Photos lied about the color of his eyes and his suit camouflaged the hard muscles that ran across his shoulders. Shoulders on which she’d just recently had her hand resting. No picture had ever made her want a man as much as she wanted the one standing in front of her, the one holding her as if he were frightened she wasn't real. 

She took a step back. “I think I need a drink. Care for one?” She asked him as she made a move towards the bottle of champagne. Olivia didn’t need a drink. What she needed was a distraction and possibly an ice bath. Any more touching and she would be sure to need a change of panties. 

The Bahamas, "Lost in the Light" started playing, and he made no sound as he moved behind her, but she felt him. Olivia felt his body standing close enough for his warmth to cover her back. She felt his thumb as he ran it over her right shoulder and down her arm, so gentle it felt like a feather. In its wake, her skin betrayed her once more and left a trail of tingling hairs standing on end. One slight movement and she swayed back against him, his hands catching both elbows, his nose buried in her hair. 

“Is this okay?” breath ragged. Olivia let her head fall back onto his shoulder, and she presented the side of her neck to him. 

“Yes.” She murmured and closed her eyes when she felt his lips graze across the tendon that ran the column of her neck.

“Steve,” she whispered as she grabbed the sides of his trousers, her arms still firmly in his grasp. She arched her rear into his groin, and he could no longer hide his attraction to her. 

“Olivia?” He replied, still trailing kisses along her shoulders. 

“I’m wearing too many clothes, I think.” She replied. 

“Shit, are you trying to kill me?” 

“No, I’m trying to let you live.” 

Steve stopped touching her, released her arms, and said, “By all means, continue,” as he moved away from her body. They were not done yet. 

She turned on him and as forcefully as she could, grabbed the back of his neck, pulled his face to her and kissed him, hard and wanting. He parted his lips as she let the tip of her tongue run lightly across them before pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and biting down gently. Olivia ended the kiss as quickly as she started it, leaving them both breathless and staring at one another. Grabbing his hand, she led him to the chair and pushed him into it. 

“Don’t touch me until I tell you to.” She instructed him, and he grabbed the arms of the chair with both hands, nodding in understanding. 

Hozier’s “Arsonist’s Lullabye” began playing through the speaker and Olivia took the pounding rhythm to heart, letting it help her accentuate each move as she ran her hands over his chest. 

Standing between his legs, she ran her hands up and down her torso, accentuating her large chest, cinched waist, and flaring hips. She placed each hand on his corresponding knee, bent her own, and pulsed her body until she was squatting between his legs, watching his hands as they dug into the armrests. Slowly she ran her hands up his thighs as she looked up at him through her lashes. 

Walking behind him, she whispered “all you have is your fire,” and “don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash,” in his ear as she passed. 

The intensity that pulsed in his stare would be frightening had she not been the one to put it there. But she was drinking it all in. She wanted him to watch her, to want her, but not have her. Not the way his body was telling her he did. 

Pulling her hands back, she moved to stand up, not losing eye contact for a moment. She turned and let him watch her loosen the ties on the back of her corset. When she turned back around, she looked at the fasteners, and then back at Steve. 

“Stand up.” She instructed him. And he did. “Help a girl out.” 

With those instructions he wrapped both hands around her back, grabbed each end of her corset and ripped the whole damn thing off of her body, dropping it immediately. Then he returned to where he was standing, hands clasped in a feeble attempt to cover the frankly impressive erection he was sporting. 

He was waiting for her next instruction. Or maybe he was distracted by her endowments that were now on full display, save the small star pasties she was wearing. “Steve?” She asked. He made eye contact and her spine burned within her body. “You may touch me now.”

Reaching forward, he placed each hand on the backs of her thighs, pulling her onto his torso as he backed her into the wall beside the fireplace, crushing his mouth to hers. He kissed her like she was the only air he could breath. He kissed her like he would never get another chance. He kissed her like she’d never been kissed before, and all she could do was hang on for dear life. 

Olivia kept her hands on his shoulder and the back of his neck. His hands held her firmly, but he wedged his thigh between her legs and lowered her slightly onto it as he let one hand start to explore. She turned her face away from his for a moment, and he began kissing down the front of her throat down to her collar bone. She felt him start to run his thumb under her breast and she arched her back. Taking the hint, he made his way further, nudging between each before bringing his hand up to squeeze one, his tongue trailing over the pastie. She could feel her nipples straining against the light fabric and watched as the shape distorted with the firm pebble he’d created under it. These weren’t her performance pasties, and they left nothing to the imagination, to both of their delights. 

Steve turned to concentrate on the other nipple, and Olivia felt her body start to tighten up with each brush of his tongue and she squeezed her thighs over his, hoping to hold off on her impending small death. 

She didn’t stand a chance when Steve bit down lightly as his hand grabbed her ass, forcing her to rub against his leg with her damp panties. “Steve… please.” All she could do was moan his name. 

“Come for me.” He instructed her as he clamped his hand over her mouth, watching her let go, as he feasted on her nipples. She felt her body shudder as she exploded into orgasm. Her vision turned white, and she could feel the rush of fluid and throbbing in her groin. She rode him out until the last mini shock released her. 

Her breathing was still labored when Steve placed his lips over hers. The knock on the door startled them both, and he lowered her back onto the ground. 

“Thirty minutes left!” the gruff voice of the security team member called. 

Olivia answered, “Heard.” And Steve found himself pulling her onto his lap back in the chair. 

“I don’t want this to end.” He whispered to her, thumbs drawing circles across her thighs. 

"Neither do I."


	4. Chapter 4

The sudden pounding on the door shocked Olivia out of her post orgasmic haze.

“Steve?” A female asked outside the door.

“Fuck!” Steve whispered. Olivia looked at him sternly, trying to figure out what was happening. Slipping out of his grasp, she crossed the room to where her robe was hanging on a hook beside the bar. Silently she nodded at Steve, who was poised to open the door.

He pushed the door out slightly and traded words with the owner of the female voice. Liv walks back to where they’d placed the paper on the table, only allowing herself a glance at to who was at the door. The flash of red hair sent her heart racing. She recognized the Black Widow, but she had no idea she was with them tonight. From the sounds of it, most of the A-Team was there, and they may be about to leave in a hurry, from the tone she gathered.

Steve had left his phone on the table by the folder of paperwork. She picked it up; sure she wouldn’t be able to open it. But she noticed something. Quickly she scribbled her cell number on the inside of the folder and then opened the camera function on his phone. Once she was done, the locked it back and closed the folder.

He might be gone from her life after tonight. She might not see him again. But she would leave that choice up to him.

Startled by him standing beside her once again, he palmed his phone, again placing it in his pocket. She heard the door shut, and they were alone.

Olivia glanced up into Steve's eyes. “That’s an excellent phone.”

“Yeah, it’s new. Tony keeps having to replace mine. Afraid none of them last very long on the more physical missions.”

“Ah. Makes sense. Guess they can’t make everything out of Vibranium, can they?” She smiled at him.

“No, they can’t.” He ran his hands down the sides of her arms. “Listen, I’m sorry about this…”

“Go, Steve. It’s ok.” She interrupted. His eyes flickered between each of hers as if he were waiting for the rest of the instructions.

After a pause, she added, “Don’t die, okay?” Releasing a small huff, he pulls her in for one more scorching kiss.

Then his phone lets out an alarm unlike she’d ever heard before, making him release her to turn it off. “And that’s the official call to Assemble. This is not how I wanted this night to end, I promise you.”

Olivia squeezed his hands with her own. “I know. Go.” And with a small peck on her forehead, he was gone. —————————————————————————————————————————  
“Was that really Steve Rogers in there with you all night?” For the fourth time, Bess asked her the same question.

Olivia looked at her over the crossword puzzle she was working on and sighed. “I can neither confirm or deny that Captain Steven Grant Rogers was with me after a show.” She stated the facts as she nodded her head up and down as a slow sign of confirmation. “Now, what’s a five letter word for a group of hippopotamuses?”

“A bloat. AND Good God. It really was him. I couldn’t tell much from the bar, and Tony Stark had EVERYONE sign their lives away but still… Olivia. What happened? Did you kiss him? Wait, did HE kiss you? Is he the tight ass everyone thinks he is?”

“BESS! For the love of all that’s holy, shut. the. fuck. up!” Olivia directed her. “And not for nothing but how did you know that about hippos off the top of your head?”

“I read it in a fan fiction once. What?” Bess blinked and smirked at her. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

And silence filled the air in Olivia’s small loft. But only for a moment.

“I’m still sorry but YOU LITERALLY JUST LIVED OUT THOUSANDS OF FANS DREAMS of being in a room with Steve Rogers for over two hours, by yourselves.”

Olivia laid her pencil down with more force than needed to glare at Bess.

“You can’t deny me details! Me, the little girl with pictures of the Howling Commandos that she kissed goodnight to every night WON’T LET YOU! So, cough it up, dearie. What happened?” Bess was gasping for breath at the very end, and Olivia just shook her head.

“Are you done?” She asked.

Bess giggled. “Maybe. If you give me answers.”

Olivia flared her nostrils taking in a deep breath. “I can’t say much. You know that.”

“Go on.”

“It’s just this deep dark secret Steve has. And it was something I promised not to tell, so you’re asking a lot of me to divulge this.” Olivia continued.

“Uh huh, uh huh… And?” Bess was almost on the edge of her seat.

Dropping her voice, Olivia explained, “I think, I mean, I can’t be sure… but I truly think his favorite artist of all time might be Michelangelo.”

“Fuck you, you whore,” was all Bess managed to spit out at her, downing the rest of her glass of wine. “You could’ve at least made something up. Wait, I know you’re lying…” She started in.

Olivia looked at her confused over her wine glass. “How? About what?”

“Your face was flushed as hell when you walked out of that room. I saw you. You never wear enough rouge for that amount of color to show up in your cheeks. What happened? Please, indulge meeee.” Bess whined and begged.

“We talked. And we drank Champagne, Bess. I wish I could tell you more, but there’s nothing else to tell.” Olivia patted her friend's hand on the table like the sister she almost was. “I was flushed because I’d split a bottle of Champagne with Captain America. Look, I’m already rosy-cheeked now, and I’ve only had one glass of wine.”

“Ugh.” And with her statement, Bess crashed her head onto her forearm across the table. “How underwhelming.”

Olivia sipped her Pinot Noir. “You’re telling me.” She picked her pencil back up. “Now, what’s a five letter word starting with “C” for baby alpacas?”

“Crias,” Supplied Bess immediately. Olivia just looked at her, again.

“What the fuck kinda fan fiction are you reading?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fan fiction Bess is reading is one of my personal favorites, MARRY FUCK KILL by sevenfoxes. You may check it out here. 
> 
>  
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/97610


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